"Oh God, he's sitting in a puddle."
"Chris, quick he is eating a stone."
"Okay now he is eating mud."
"WHERE IS RAFE? Oh, he is rolling down a muddly bank. At least he is laughing." I'm laughing inside.
"Oh fuck. Yankee is in the pomd. YANKEE!"
"Chris, the swans, the swans, they are going to attack Yankee! Yankee man!!!"
"Elijah, please stop crying."
"Right, you get Rafe, I'll have to carry Elijah. Let's get the fuck out of here."
The 'let's get out and get some fresh air' turned into my blood pressure going through the roof and all of us covered in mud - but isn't this a photo of pure happiness? ❤ Rafe enjoyed himself - and Yankee despite almost getting eaten by three swans, so I guess that is all that matters and me losing my shit (slightly) was a little dramatic. We were a walking contraceptive though. I could see the judgy eyes. 🙈
Sorry I've been quiet on the blog front, just been a slightly stressful few weeks, with poorly children, hospital admissions and Elijah not sleeping well - to name a few - but it's almost Christmas and have so much to be thankful for. Just could do with a few more hours sleep a night - maybe Santa could bring me 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep? IMAGINE.
Me pregnant with Rafe: I'm going to workout when the baby naps, make sure I look after myself... get straight back into CrossFit.
Rafe arrived: Rocked one eyebrow, rarely left the house without him, lived in maternity leggings, only exercise was walking to the biscuit tin and back.
Pregnant with Elijah: Two under two will be tough but really want to avoid looking like Worzel Gummidge every day. Also really going to try and get back into running.
Reality now: Lucky if I wear a bra. Brushing my hair is making an effort. One eyebrow is going strong - as is moustache. Only exercise is running (I use that term loosely) after a toddler saying on repeat, "please don't sit on the baby" and walking up and down the stairs to go to the loo. RIP pelvic floor.
Photo credit: mommymemejeans
Here we fucking go again. I think my introduction to the four month sleep regression with Rafe was something along the lines of ‘help, I’m pouring coffee into my fucking eyeballs’. Which really is the perfect way to introduce the four month sleep regression. Throw in a snotty nose and well, we are pretty fucked. (Disclaimer: I say the f word a lot in this post). I remember thinking with Rafe if we were lucky to have another baby I would make sure they can self settle early on so we wouldn’t be hit in the face with this regression. HAHAHAHAHAHAAHA ok then pet. Anything for an easy life and I know what works – boob and cuddled to sleep – just like Master Rafe. It's hard to try and let Elijah cry a little as petrified he will wake Rafe so as soon as he wakes (normally 30 minutes after I’ve put him down – just like Rafe did), I am sprinting up the stairs like Usain Bolt to avoid two children having a meltdown and me crying into the biscuit tin. With the poor fella full of cold – still – he is so unsettled too. Went to the doctors but they said it was just a virus – oh good old viruses. So as well as Rafe picking up nursery germs – he is bringing them straight back to Elijah. Trying to remember – all good for the immune system in the long run but it’s difficult to think positively when you haven’t slept since 2017. The only way he does settle for a longer stretch is if he is next to me. But it's like a Russian Roulette every night - up every hour one night, has two hour stretches the next. Either way we ain't get much beauty sleep - hello bird lady from Home Alone 2. We meet again. I always tried to avoid getting into the routine of bringing Rafe into bed with me, one because I was so paranoid about co-sleeping and two I didn’t want to make it difficult to get him in his cot. But with Elijah, it just seems to work that way and if he settles by me (obvs make it safe for him to sleep by me) I will do anything to help him get some sleep – and me of course. I know I’m probably going against all the baby book advice and I need to try and get him to self settle but sometimes you’ve got to just do what works for you and your baby – at that moment in time. And right now it's just about us both getting some sleep and I’d sleep upside down on my head if it helped. Just kind of forgot how brutal this stage was, think I blocked it out – and how a cold can really wipe out a baby. I also just feel like....am I doing something wrong to be going through this all again? At a baby class this week I seemed to be surrounded by babies who are younger than Elijah and are sleeping through. Took all my strength not to yell – WHAT THE FUCK?!! Please can someone remind me that other babies don’t sleep too?! Just trying to remember the four month sleep regression doesn’t last forever – then it’s the 8 month....and Rafe does sleep well now but took a good year and a bit. It’s ok though – coffee into my fucking eyelids is how to survive!
Rafe has had horrendous diarrhoea this week. Poor thing woke up the other day and he must have been sleeping in it for a little while. When I picked him up he was covered from head to toe. Had to put him straight in the bath while trying not to cry with guilt as he had basically been sleeping in his own poo. Mum of the year! Had him at the doctors too as they wanted to see him as his poo was really pale in colour but again – said it was just a virus. But then we had a proper scare on Thursday. He was with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law and out of the blue just started hyperventilating and couldn’t breathe. My sister-in-law is a nurse and also the kind of person who you would want to be with when this kind of thing happens as just so calm. She managed after five minutes to get Rafe’s breathing back to normal. Then he started hyperventilating again but managed to regulate breathing and rang me and we took him to hospital where he was running around like nothing had happened. Despite giving us all a mini heart attack they were not concerned and after doing his observations they couldn’t say what had happened but that it might have been him spiking a temperature which caused the hyperventilating. No other symptoms apart from diarrhoea to cause concern (he hadn't just eaten anything to cause a reaction). It’s just hard as you I an relieved he is ok but also such a worry as I don’t know what caused it for certain. But he is ok now and all that matters. Just a constant worry every second of the day. Has anyone else’s toddler had something similar happen?
On a positive note Rafe had his two year check up with his health visitor and there were no concerns and really happy with how he is getting on. How ridiculous were some of the questions though? ‘If you put a raison in a bottle, will you child try and get it out?’ Erm, don’t think we have tried that one. After going from worrying about his speech months ago, he seems to have come on so much in the last couple of months and just goes to show that all children develop at different rates and on the most part, you don’t need to worry. But you do obviously. Once they are running round the school yard nobody is going to be able to tell who walked at 10 months or who walked at 19 months – or who said their first words later than everyone else. There is just feel this pressure to hit these milestones – which I know are there in place for a reason but it doesn’t half stress you out. Like Elijah has rolled over both ways – but has decided he doesn’t want to do it anymore and now I’m stressing about that which is ridiculous. Honestly need some vodka in my coffee I think.
Thank you for all your messages about Yankee. He is thankfully back to his old mad self! Fingers crossed whatever had caused the abscess and damage to the throat was completely removed during the surgery. Such a worry but feel very lucky he is ok.
I wish I could keep up with the weekly blog posts but been a bit full on the past few weeks so might have to be once a month – with little posts in-between – as long as people are still enjoying reading! Always grateful for everyone’s messages – always good to know I’m not the only one covered in poo and sick – and surviving on coffee!
Till next time,
“I’ve got my life back,” is something I have heard from other mums who have passed the baby stage, kids are off to school and although the constant worry never goes away – and you are still completely focused on your children – there is a ‘freedom' you have when a baby is not on your boob or a toddler is opening the door while you're having a poo. I am not wishing any of these stages away – they are moments (some!) I know I will wish I could relive over again. But this week I have felt, I don’t know what the right word is – if you could bottle up a ‘head in hands and shake of the head’ into words then that would be it. I was due to go out with friends last night. Maybe I was being over ambitious with Elijah only four months and still refusing a bottle but tried all week to give him some expressed milk but the poor fella has a virus (when is it not?) and isn’t sleeping (dare I say - 4 month sleep regression) so all he wants to do is lie next to me and find comfort on the boob. As Saturday night came closer it was obvious I wouldn’t be able to go out. And I didn't ugly cry but I was really looking forward to a night off. And sounds dramatic but worried my friends would forget about me – and stop inviting me out. I just wanted to let my hair down and not just be mum for a few hours. Rafe didn’t take a bottle till he was around 9 months and that's when I had my first 'proper' night out – so really it ain’t the end of the world. I guess it’s just the on going battle of missing your old life but wouldn’t change being a mum for the world. Another mum put it perfectly when she said it's like a 'loss of identity while simultaneously creating a new one where you’re supposed to know what you are doing and assume this 'new identity' without batting an eyelid!' But my grandma put it into perspective when she said the baby stage is so short. And then Elijah fell asleep in my arms and I remembered he wouldn't need me like this forever. And it's something to treasure - albeit I need sleep. Plenty of wild nights out to come. Like this one on my hen party where I've either slut dropped and can't get up - or vomited. Who wants to join me in going wild in my 40s? 🙋
Royal Marine Wife. Mum to Rafe.